


Blizzard

by SaphireCorona



Series: Devour the Pure & Divine [2]
Category: The Walking Dead (Comics), The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Cold, Daddy Issues, F/M, I need help, Rebellion, Shameless, Smut, Storm - Freeform, Winter, but so are you guys, im going to hell, take the clothes off, this is just shameful
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-30
Updated: 2020-07-30
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:41:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25615264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SaphireCorona/pseuds/SaphireCorona
Summary: A much wanted (by me) sequel to my other one-shot "Service". In which my beloved Chastity, aka Rick's daughter, has a wonderfully heated, secret relationship with Alexandria's prisoner.Half inspired by "The Storm" episode where Negan is such a gentleman rescuing Judth. But in this case, it's Rick's older AU daughter and certain people take their clothes off to stay warm. What a unique trope, right?
Relationships: Negan (Walking Dead)/Original Female Character(s)
Series: Devour the Pure & Divine [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1856719
Comments: 3
Kudos: 20





	Blizzard

**Author's Note:**

> Heyyyyy! 
> 
> Forewarning, this is smutty, terribly written, illogical trash but I don't care because I wanted to write it so don't say shit about how shitty it is. As a side note, I loved the idea of Chastity and Negan so much that I've written so much random shit on them and perhaps one day I'll post it all here. In the meantime, take my frigid fantasies. <3

“I’m so cold,” my teeth chattered louder than the wind hitting the shutters outside. “This fucking sucks.” As if my anger would warm me up, I tightened the death grip my bare hands had on my torso. I had a sweater, a sweatshirt, and a coat on over that, and it still felt like I was dressed for summer in the arctic. 

Another harsh gust of wind picked up a tree branch from outside and slammed it against the exterior of the glorified barn we were holed up in. This storm had been raging for what felt like days, and though it had only started late this afternoon, it dropped a week’s worth of snow. With the snow came frigid temperatures, the kind that’d give your hypothermia if you weren’t careful. 

When you added it all together, it landed all of Alexandria cooped up into a few different buildings to conserve the heat. Most of the houses were useless as the power was out and only one or two of them had a fireplace. Me and my dad’s place did not have such a luxury. If people weren’t in here, they were at Aaron’s or Olivia’s. 

“Language, Chastity,” my dad stood near the fireplace at the end of the barn with his forearm resting against the mantle, his glare heated by the flames, his voice reprimanding. He nodded towards the few younger children who were huddled up by their mothers on the sofas in the corner of the increasingly small room. They seemed oblivious to my colorful complaints, and I rolled my eyes at his need to scold me. Our relationship had become a bit strained as of late, and the stressful situation that this storm had created didn’t help. 

The man beside me chimed in to lighten the mood, “Yes, Miss Grimes, watch your mouth.” Negan drove his elbow playfully into my side from the other side of the child-sized cot we both sat on. All the heat left in my body flooded my cheeks until they were hot to the touch. He laughed haughtily at the sight. I did my best to ignore how good he looked in the black beanie that covered his newly cut hair, which was now shorter on the sides than it was on the top. In contrast, he had filled his beard out again. His sideburns held a tinge of his darker hair color but quickly faded into grey. With the heavy winter jacket that closely resembled his old leather one, he looked as good as ever. 

Our friendly little escapade didn’t end when my father left me home alone to go to the Hilltop all those months ago. The midnight rendezvous had been going on for nearly six months now. Unfortunately, though, once he finished building it, my father moved Negan to a more official prison cell across the street in the basement of an abandoned house. It hindered our attempts, but I still snuck over there to see him when I could. Most of the time, it was harmless, idle chit chat, but there were nights when said visits were a little more...licentious than others. 

Thankfully, my father had become too engrossed in his own newly kindled relationship with Michonne to keep me under his thumb all the time. It made it easier for me to spend more time with Negan; which is really all I ever seemed to want to do. Despite my dad’s ignorance, Negan, however, seemed to get off on subtly pointing out to my father that he was stealing his daughter’s innocence whenever he could. 

I jumped when a loud crash came from somewhere beyond the door. It sounded like a tree trunk falling through the fence, or into a roof, but Negan offered me some distraction. “Here,” he digressed his taunting with a sigh and peeled his black Carhartt coat from his frame and wrapped it around my shoulders, rubbing his hands up and down my arms to create enough friction to warm me back up. His touch was more than enough to have me burning, but the extra weight of the coat was a nice addition. 

I stopped shivering for a moment. “Thank you,” I said to him quietly. It took a lot of convincing to get my dad to bring him with us, rather than letting him freeze to death in his cell, and I was beyond grateful that he had listened to me. He winked and chose to keep himself snugly by my side rather than moving back to where he had been. 

Though I could feel my dad’s persistent irritation from across the room, I ignored it by pulling the jacket closer to my frame and burying my nose beneath to fabric to thaw it. My eyes closed peacefully. God, he smelled good; like a warm, hazy summer sunset, or dark chocolate and wine. 

He blew hot air into his folded hands and the sound of it kept my mind from getting too carried away. I cleared my throat and looked up at him with a coy smile that he returned with his heart-stopping, cocky grin. Even now, I struggled to keep up with his ruggedly overwhelming nature. He could be unduly charming and dangerously provocative in the same sentence. He made everything that I knew was wrong suddenly feel right with an ephemeral touch. His mouth, his lips, were a masterpiece of sin and lust. I could have admired them for hours. I craved everything about him to the point that it often kept me up at night, restlessly wishing I had him inside me.

The son of a bitch had me wrapped around his finger. 

After he bereaved of my virginity and then some, I cautiously assumed he’d had his fun with me and everything would go back to how it was. But when I found myself beneath him time and time again, hearing him call me ‘baby’, I knew we had wordlessly agreed to a dissolute, selfishly gratifying relationship. 

Negan’s knee knocked against mine when he stretched his legs out a bit. At most, there were a couple inches between us, but my father seemed too preoccupied in his conversation with Michonne to worry about what I was doing at the moment. Plus, we both knew I wouldn’t do anything in plain sight. 

Meanwhile, everyone else, wrapped up in blankets, curtains, tablecloths, and whatever else they could find to fend off the cold, spoke amongst their small groups. About fifteen of us had crowded the one-room shack, and they all had given me a wide-eyed look when I all too willingly sat next to Negan. I’d rather be next to him than anywhere else, though. 

“I heard you’re gonna be a big sister,” my best kept secret struck up a conversation of our own. I looked up from counting the nails in the floorboard with a grimace, my fingers against my chest like a straight jacket. He frowned ever so slightly at my irritation. “What? I thought you liked Michonne?” 

Once, when Negan was trying to convince me to break him out of his cell so he could have his way with me, he used the argument that my dad had “ _been getting more action_ ” than me. I had guffawed at the prospect. I’d never seen my dad take part in any kind of romance since my mother passed but, sure enough, he sat me down in the living room a few months back and told me that Michonne was pregnant. 

My father and I had been fighting ever since. 

Looking over at Michonne and my dad, I rolled the tension from my shoulders. All this shivering was going to give me a headache. Under all the winter clothes, she had been hiding the ever-growing bump of her stomach from most of the community. “No, I do. She’s great, it's just…I think he’s a little old to be having another kid. I don't know. The whole ordeal is weird.” I was happy my dad found someone, but I wanted nothing to do with a little brother or sister. I liked being my dad’s only child, his little girl, but now, all he could talk about was Michonne’s pregnancy or all the stuff he needed to do before the baby came. It made me feel like I didn’t matter to him anymore. I hated it. 

He chuckled and leaned down to whisper against my ear, his facial hair tickling my skin, “I’m a little old to be screwing a twenty-three year old.” Mister tall-dark-handsome-and-twice-my-age had a fair point, but the circumstances were different. At least, that’s what I told myself. 

I pulled back to look at his cinnamon-whiskey gaze with a disdainful smirk, “I don’t hear you complaining.” I couldn’t stop my eyes from drifting to his mouth when his tongue skimmed his lower lip. 

“Not at all, baby. I’m living the fucking dream,” he agreed, all too happy to flatter me. 

“Hmm,” I rolled my eyes, a genial smile playing on my lips once again. I could never seem to be unhappy around him and the more we talked, the more I began to forget about the frost chilling over the windows around us. I changed the subject to something other than my family issues, “Speaking of dreams, you wanna know what I dreamt about last night?” 

He raised a brow as he stared down at me, one of my favorite expressions on his handsome face. “What?” He seemed intrigued which made me appreciate him all the more. He was fun to talk to. He made me feel like he gave a shit about whatever was on my mind.

“I’ll give you three guesses.” The jacket tried to slip off my shoulders when I angled my body towards his, but he caught it before it fell back to the cot and tapped his finger beneath my chin after he settled it back over me. I thanked him with a bashful simper. 

His eyes stayed on me while he thought. Before he answered, he bit down on his lip briefly, a forewarning of something inappropriate. “You and me locked in a hot shower?” 

A longing sigh slipped out. If a shower would have been possible right now, I would have been in one hours ago. Sharing it with him would’ve been an added bonus. “A hot shower sounds amazing, but no. Try again.” 

He sucked the air through his teeth in concentration. “You…” he tapped his fingers against his thigh for a moment, then changed directions, “Me getting you out of a super tight, super hot black dress.” This was starting to turn into what he fantasized about. “Mmm, I’d like that,” he spoke his thoughts aloud, his mind elsewhere. 

“No!” I kept my defiant shout as quiet as I could. “It wasn’t about you.” I can’t say I was surprised that all his suggestions were tied to something that involved the two of us caught up in copulation.

His doubt was evident but not unjustified. He’d caught me innocuously bending the truth a handful of times. “I think you’re lying because I am _very_ fucking dreamy.” Be that as it may, he didn’t need me to tell him that. 

“You’re egotistical,” I corrected pointedly, “and you got one more guess.”

He tried to coax an answer out of me with a sly smile and quick hand that rested on my upper thigh, “Can you show me a hint?” his voice low and rough, he came dangerously close to kissing me, and I had never wanted to be alone with him more than I did now. 

My shoulder was nearly dislocated when I was abruptly pulled to my feet. The jacket shifted from my shoulders and got left behind as my father stormed off with my small wrist locked in his hand. Negan said something in protest, as did I. “Dad! Stop!” I fought against his grip as he dragged me away from the one person I was always told to stay away from.

Finally, we halted near the door, the most secluded part of the barn, but everyone was watching us. "Chastity, how many times do I have to tell you to stop talking to him?!" he hissed the words from his mouth like an angry cat. The blue eyes he gave to me were raging like a river, and it made his now very grey beard stand out all the more. 

My anger chased away any trace of ice that had settled over me, and I returned the favor without hesitation. "What's wrong with talking? He's not doing anything!" 

He cut his hand through the air to point at Negan, who was right where I left him with a perfidious smirk on his face as he watched my dad unravel because of him. The man had an effect on the Grimes family, I’d give him that. "The hell he’s not! I see the way he looks at you. It makes me sick!" he noted, stringent. I wanted to laugh. If he only knew half of it. "I think sometimes you forget who you are."

I glared at him with a virulent scowl to match. "What the hell does that mean?"

"You're not just anyone's daughter, Chastity, you're _mine_ , and the things you do reflect upon me, on our family, our name. I don't want you of all people associating yourself with him! After everything we went through, everything I did to keep him from destroying this place!"

“It’s been a year and a half, Dad. Let it go!" I raised my voice, and I didn’t care who heard me. They were all staring at us anyway, anxiety and confusion in their expressions. Might as well put on a show. “Besides, I didn't ask for any of this bullshit! I don't want your legacy! I just want to live my life!” My temper tantrum became full-blown, and I couldn’t seem to pump the breaks on my outburst. “Because ever since the prison, people treat me differently because I’m Rick-fucking-Grimes’s daughter. I’m tired of it! I'm sorry I'm not the prodigal child you wanted, but maybe you'll luck out with the next one!" I tore the door open and stormed outside into the blustering wind and blinding bouts of snow. The gust of chilled air that rushed towards me closed the door before I could, but I could still hear my dad shouting for me from the other side. 

"Damn it, Chastity! Get back in here!" I couldn’t tell if he was concerned for my wellbeing or mad about my caustic words, but I ignored him and started towards the house. I knew the house, specifically my room, would be colder than an icebox, but I figured I could bury myself beneath a mountain of blankets and sleep through the rest of the storm. 

Bits of snow snuck its way beneath the layers of fabric I wore until it melted against my skin. I stuffed my hands in the pockets of the jacket and pulled it tighter against my waist as I walked and grumbled about how much of dick my father was being. “Fuck, it's cold.” My ears already began to ache as the air bit at them. It almost hurt to breathe, like ice was building up in my lungs. Resolute on making it inside, I carried on for a few more minutes.

I had kept my eyes down as I walked to keep the snow from sticking to my lashes, but when I looked up again, I realized I didn’t know where the hell I had been going. The visibility was close to none thanks to the walls of white that the snow and wind created when they met. The falling powder had covered the terrain I had memorized so well and the wind swept away my footprints to keep me from retracing my steps. 

And just like that, I was lost.

“Shit,” I cursed this storm, this entire night, my father. As much as I didn’t want to face my dad again, I knew the shed was the closest shelter. I turned around to go back the way I came, but it felt like I had been blindfolded and spun around a few dozen times. I couldn’t even see the glow of the fire from the windows of the building anymore. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” I continued to swear when I couldn’t feel my toes anymore. I tried not to panic, I knew that’d only make things worse, but I also knew that if I didn’t get out of this weather soon, I’d pay dearly for it.

I did my best to remember the way I came but something stopped me. 

I heard a raspy growl through the wind. A chilled, starved moan. When I turned on my heel, a snow drenched walker lunged for me, its hands more penetrating than the weather. My guard had been torn down after living behind these walls, and I yelped when it tackled me to the ground, teeth aimed for my throat. 

A heavy dusting of snow was catapulted by our fall and it landed on my face but, most unfortunately, my eyes. I tried to shake the sleet off my cheeks and out of my sight while holding the walker back, my fingers digging into the decayed flesh on its bony shoulders, but it had the advantage of knowing how to fight with a lack of feeling in its arms. Half of me already felt numb, and the deep snow made it hard for me to gain any traction to push it off of me. The more I fidgeted, the more I began to lose my grip. 

The bottom portion of its face was mostly bone. I could see how its jaw had been dislocated on one side. It snapped and growled until I finally gathered enough strength to use my semi-frozen hands to push it up and off of me. It stumbled and landed maybe a foot away from me, and I used what little opportunity I gave myself to start fretfully crawling to my feet again. It snarled angrily behind me, and the soles of my boots slipped against the wet snow and sheets of ice but I kept going, not really caring where I went, as long as it was away from here. 

The second I found stability on my feet, I realized what I had stumbled onto. 

I couldn’t go back. 

It was too late. 

I heard the ice break before my foot fell through and sank into the frigid water of the small man-made lake on the edge of the community. My hands tried to grab onto the serrated edge of the ice sheet before my other leg followed suit, but the support remained too thin. I could only let out a sharp cry for help before the rest of my body fell through with a deafening splash. The water rushed up my nose and burned my airway as I descended. My arms began to flail in a swimming motion to pull me up to the surface. The lake wasn’t horrendously deep, but the weight of soaked fabric only took me further from air. 

My heart had lost control of its tempo and began its downwards spiral of erratic dread. Desperately, I attempted to take off my coat to give me a fighting chance but my newfound enemy was more determined than I gave it credit for. The walker had fallen in after me and grabbed me by my hair as it fought to take a bite out of my flesh. I could hear it snarling through the polar lake, its grip continuously finding me, then slipping as I thrashed. I had to keep my eyes open to try and untangle myself, but my lungs were on fire and it was as close to dark as you could get underwater. All the extra effort made me feel as if I was about to pass out. After my last few bubbles of air rose to the top, I involuntarily coughed and choked. My chances of getting out alive quickly dropped to zero after that. 

It felt as if something else had dropped through the surface. I could only hope that if it was another walker, that I’d be dead by the time they both got to me. 

Then, an arm wrapped tightly around my torso and began taking me to shore. Had my dad chased after me? I tried to figure out who it was, but my eyes were blurred by the moving water and my ever slipping conscience. Finally, we breached the surface, but I couldn’t take a deep breath because all the water had settled in my lungs. 

My savior gripped the most stable part of the ice that they could find and pushed me up and over before dragging themselves out. He or she helped me up to some kind of sitting position to keep me from lying face down in the snow. Desperately, I gasped for a single breath in between sputtering water from my mouth. Only the water that I choked up from my lungs held any semblance of heat. 

“Try to breathe, baby, take it easy.” A few more hacks wrecked my lungs as his hand rubbed circles against my back. Once my throat was sufficiently sore and marred from coughing, I was able to hold down a gasp of air. Had the wind not been so frigid, it would have been soothing, but it felt like I was swallowing fire. 

He had taken his jacket off before rescuing me, and I was grateful that he had something dry to wrap around my shoulders. “Come on, we can’t stay out here.” 

Steadfast, he picked me up and did his best to keep his teeth from chattering against the abrasive wind as he took us somewhere with four walls and a roof. Nodding, my fingers froze around his jacket to pull it close, my face buried against his cold chest. 

I should’ve known Negan of all people would find me.

He led us to the first form of shelter he could find. The irony of said shelter being the church was not lost on me. 

By the time he reached the doors, we both had another inch of snow piled on top of us. With his hands full and probably halfway to freezing off, he kicked the door open with the exposed steel toe of his boot. A rush of snow came inside with us, and Negan let loose a string of hushed profanities when the lukewarm air of the church burned against his exposed skin. 

Inside, it was dark, almost to the point that you couldn’t see anything, which would have been the case if the moon wasn’t reflecting its light off the snow and through the opaque windows. 

He used his heel to slam the door shut behind us and found his way to the small office in the far left corner, the only part of the building that had decent insulation. I gathered that the structure must have been a community center of sorts before the people of Alexandria deemed it as a church. But once they made some pews and a cross, it was sufficient for whoever still believed that there was a reason for the world ending. 

The office had a couch where a cot used to be, a couple of cabinets, and a desk. When we first came to Alexandria, Gabriel, our devout priest, took up residence in the church for a short while. There were still some blankets and lanterns tucked away to make it more comfortable; somewhere, anyway. 

When he sat me down on the desk by the door, my shivering had begun to slow, but only because I could barely feel anything. My hair froze on the way here, and my lips felt locked in place against one another. He stepped into my exhausted view to check on me after he lit the lantern behind me on the desk. I didn’t know how he was standing still because I wanted to slip into catalepsy. 

A heated fog drifted from his lips to the open air as he spoke, “Hey, hey, look at me, you okay?” The hand he placed on my forehead pressed my head back so he could make sure I was still conscious. Labored and delayed, I nodded. “I know you’re tired, but keep those baby blues open for me, alright?” Savoring how it felt to have them closed, I opened my eyes back to him after a few seconds and mumbled something that I couldn’t even hear. “I’m gonna look for something to wrap you up in.” One moment I was looking at his face and the next I was staring straight ahead at the wall while he rummaged through bins and cupboards. 

I didn’t know how long he’d been looking. All I could keep track of was how cold I felt, how slow my pulse was. My cheek rested against my shoulder when I had begun to drift off. “Let’s get you out of these wet clothes, come on.” Precipitously, he jostled me awake by pushing the jacket off before hurriedly pulling my sweater and everything under that off of me. His hands tugged on my hair as he squeezed all the water out, leaving a substantial puddle by my thigh. I tried to keep up with his actions when he yanked my socks and boots off and tossed them aside so he could unbuckle my jeans from my waist and slide them past my ankles. “Okay, here we go.” Left in nothing but my bare skin, he wrapped me up in a heavy blanket and carried me over to the couch. 

I blinked a few times as I tried to figure out how he had gotten me undressed so quickly, but it’s not like it was something he’d never done before. 

“That feel better?” he asked after setting me down, his eyes locked on the shallow puffs of air coming from my parted lips. The blanket hadn’t been much warmer when it first touched my skin, but now that I was free of my wet clothes, my body began to do its job and heat the dry fabric of the comforter up. I nodded again with slightly more energy. “Good.” He seemed too distracted by ridding himself of his own clothes to put much thought into a reply. 

In the faint light, I watched him lean down to untie his boots and peel them off along with his socks. His hands went for the thinner jacket and shirt that protected his chest and I could hear how much water they had soaked up when he added those to the pile as well. They were never going to dry like that, but I think we both had more important things to worry about. 

He caused my heart to skip a few leagues straight into a hyperactive state the second he undid his belt. The sudden rush of heat had me shivering again. “Mind if I join you?” His jeans and boxers fell to his ankles and he stepped out of them on his way to me.

Without waiting for an answer that he already knew, he took hold of the corner of the blanket I offered him so he could meet me beneath the lilac-colored fabric. “Fuck me, baby,” he hissed the air through his teeth when he settled in beside me, “if you wanted to get me alone, all you had to do was ask.” Even now, he tried to crack a joke. 

I practically crawled into his lap, ushering a quiet laugh out of him at how much hassle we had just gone through. As usual, he took control of the situation and laid down on his back with me on top of him, closer than any blanket was going to get. With the comforter tented over us, I finally began to feel some warmth again. 

My fingertips pressed lightly into his skin to see how numb they still were. “Thank you,” I breathed, my voice filled with more relief than I’d ever felt. He hummed for his reply, which was always a reverberating, soothing sound, especially when I was so close to him. “You didn’t have to dive in for me the way you did. I feel bad.” He shouldn’t have risked his life for my reckless actions. 

He didn’t speak for a moment as he listened to the wind whistling through what was left of the trees outside. “Of course I did,” methodically as breathing, he rubbed his hand along the valley of my back, “you’re my girl.” When I looked up at him, stunned at his rare affection, he smiled dotingly. He complimented me quite often, but as I wracked my brain for a memory of him saying something so...romantic, I came up empty. 

I’d gotten rather attached to him over the months. Though, I did my best not to let it on. I wasn’t naive enough to think that he harbored any kind of ardent feelings for me; not in the aberrant way I did for him. But I’d never really been with anyone else, and I clung to his affection like it was the last thing I’d ever have. Perhaps I had judged him too quickly. Maybe he did care about me. 

“What?” he questioned my prolonged, silent staring. “Cat got your tongue?” 

“No, sorry,” I shook my head and shifted my gaze to the diminutive but inordinately warm gold sheen of the lantern across the room, “I just...thank you.” I picked the first thing that came to my head as a reply and it made no sense. “Sorry,” I frowned at myself. He couldn’t hide his amusement as I gathered my thoughts into one place. “I, you know, I really like you.” Through rushed emotion and barely audible admissions, I couldn’t have made that more awkward. 

He placed a finger beneath my chin to bring my attention back to him so he could offer his sage advice. "I ain't an expert, but I do believe you should be kissing me after my very touching words." The favored, heavenly smile debuted itself for the first time this evening and I couldn’t say no. Then again, I’ve never been able to say no to him. 

He replaced the touch of his finger with his hand against my cheek as I pulled myself up just enough so my lips could meet his. I sighed when we kissed. It’d been almost two weeks since I’d gotten him to myself and it was torture, to say the least. 

I remembered how hesitant I used to be in the beginning. He’d have me blushing incessantly at his requests, the things he’d whisper in my ear, the crooked smile he'd give me when I stumbled over something as simple as unzipping his jeans. Now, I felt more comfortable with him than anyone else in this community.

I curled my hand around his upper arm. “I missed you,” I breathed my subtle affection against his mouth. He parted my lips with a smiling kiss in return. It made my heart falter for a moment and a warm rush trickle down my spine as his hand tangled itself in my damp hair at the nape of my neck. His other hand sought out my shoulder so he could usher me onto my back. 

Once he was above me, he rested his forehead against mine. “You’ve got quite the dirty mouth on you, Miss Grimes,” he teased me about my outburst, his voice the crackling of a fire. He made me love the sound of my name. 

“I learned from the best,” my hand traversing his back, I lauded his crass behavior. When I was younger, before the world fell apart and the importance of morals shifted, I would get grounded when I said even an alternative to a swear word. My father tried his best to keep me from cursing still, but Negan encouraged it to the fullest. 

“That’s fucking right you did,” his beard scratched against my skin when he whispered in my ear. I jumped beneath him when his fingers gripped my upper thigh so hard that I thought he might leave a bruise. He used his leverage to hitch my leg against his waist and a shamelessly needy noise left my mouth as he moved his hips against mine to tantalize me. 

At least no one could hear us this time. 

With just enough space between us for him to slip his hand between my legs, my nails dug into his back the moment he worked his finger against my clit. “Fuck me, baby, you’re fucking wet,” gruffly, he spoke his words against my parted lips as I tried to catch my breath. The twisting ache I felt already began to tighten and burn but he could break me down like no other. To make matters worse, he slipped two of his fingers inside me as he kissed me hard on the mouth, his tongue brushing against mine. 

When he spoke again, his words were jagged, “I spent too much fucking time thinking about you this week.” I held my breath and my heart began to beat wildly in my chest when he began his usual torture of moving his fingers in a slow, punishing rhythm inside me. Torn between whining and begging, I arched my back against him. I was certain he loved nothing more than having me be so desperate and submissive as he looked down at me with a heady gaze, his teeth biting down on his smile. “You drive me up the goddamn wall, you know that?” 

I tried to get the words out between my frayed breathing, “You kinda deserve it,” somehow, I managed a derisive smile that he took as a challenge. He reclaimed his fingers and I found myself only wanting him more when I watched him place them in his mouth. He sucked them clean before he replied with a heated kiss and his tongue parted my lips with impatience so I could taste myself. 

The throbbing ache between my legs became almost painful the longer he made me wait. “Please, please,” I bucked my hips against him, in need of his touch. I only had to do it a few more times before he gave in, and my pulse had me feeling like I’d just sprinted through a marathon by the time he pressed himself into me. 

Something between a growl and a sigh emanated from his chest, overtaking my own moan. As I kissed his neck, my lips grazed the scar where he had been cut. He took a moment to regain his composure of the cocky, domineering man that he was while I ran my hand along his shoulder then through his hair. 

“What else do I deserve?” he breathed against my ear, slowly easing into me. “I’ve been good, haven’t I?” He left a harsh bruise along the valley of my collarbone and his left hand managed to snag both my wrists so he could pin them above my head, a trademark of his habit of his.

My back arched just to be a fraction closer to him as I tried to remember my own name, hoping I’d be able to walk tomorrow. That being said, there was a small, if not insignificant, list of things I wouldn’t do to be where I was right now. “Fucking perfect.” I finally answered him, my voice a broken whisper. 

He chuckled, “Ain’t no one gonna hear ya.” Proving his point, another gust of wind caused another crash of debris outside. If it kept up, half the houses would be destroyed. “Go on, baby, tell me how good it feels to have my dick inside you.” 

I had grown so used to releasing the tension he caused me through quiet, enverated touches that my hands fought against his grip so my fingers could feel the muscles in his back and knot themselves in his hair. But now, he was starving me of that. He pressed his other hand against the cushion beneath me to prop himself up so he could drive his hips against mine with enough coercion to get the reaction he wanted from me. 

My legs gripped his waist and I started swearing and moaning every time he pressed into me. “God, fuck,” I tried to talk but it sounded more like I was incoherently panting, “don’t stop.” Some kind of whine proceeded my words and I pressed the side of my face into the couch, my eyes rolled back in a state of fervid bliss. 

At the sight of me, he gave up on holding himself back as well and let my arms go so he could knot his fingers in my hair and cradle my face, his mouth hovering above mine. “Don’t worry, daddy knows how to take care of his dirty little girl, doesn’t he?” he growled possessively, his fingers pressed against my neck just enough to make me gasp. I was nodding before he finished speaking. His satisfied hum quickly became his own mess of panting and groaning when I forced his mouth back to mine. The kisses we shared were erratic thanks to the two of us trying to breathe and find relief in each other.

He gave me one last lip biting kiss before he rolled both of us to our side with my back against his chest. His hand grabbed my leg that was closest to him with a harsh grip and swung it over his so he could have access to every part of me. 

He didn't even give me a chance to think about what he was doing before he was inside me again. My fingers blindly clung to the fabric of the couch when he simultaneously let his finger roll over my clit as he fucked me from behind. 

His heated breathing in my ear sounded like heaven, but his voice alone, gruff and low, made me moan again. “You’re so fucking beautiful, babygirl,” he told me, his hand reaching up to grip my jaw and turn my head towards him so he could kiss me. He always knew what to say, what would affect me the most, and his twisted affection had me wanting to give him everything he ever wanted.

I ground my hips down against him and he groaned into my mouth when I kept a steady pace. His hand couldn't seem to stay in one place as it dropped down to my hip to keep me pinned against him, and his fingers gripped it so fiercely that it made my leg ache. It was a subtle reminder of how severe he could be. 

It didn’t take long for his fingers to drift back to my core. He had gotten me worked up to the point where every touch felt like being shocked, albeit gratifyingly. It turned me into a panting, whimpering disarray that no doubt made him feel accomplished. I tried to grab his forearm just so I could breathe, but he reprimanded the action by clicking his tongue to the roof of his mouth and nudging my hand away from his before he went back to what he had been doing. 

His beard scratched against my ear, and in that moment, it felt so good it made me want to cry. “God fucking damn, you’re a wet fucking mess for daddy, babygirl. Got you wrapped around my goddamn dick, don’t I?” I didn’t answer because I only half heard what he said, deafened by my pulse ringing in my head. He stole what last little bit of air I had left when he grabbed my face again in search of a reply, an arrogant smirk on his face, “Right?”

I gasped then bit down on his lip, and I didn’t think I’d ever sounded so needy, “Yes, daddy.” I loved hearing myself say it as much as he did. 

He coerced me into calling him that after a few months so he could boost his insufferable ego every time he heard it cross my lips, but the look he always gave me after I said it made me feel like the last girl on earth. 

Tonight, though, it seemed to put him over the edge and then some. His body tensed against mine with a sharp growl. “Jesus motherfucking shit! Fuck!” mindlessly, he swore under his breath, letting his hand fall from my jaw as not to bruise it, but remained coherent enough to force me into the same state as him with just a few thrusts of his hips. 

I somehow felt every little thing yet numb at the same time, like having a fever of 104 then being plunged back into the arctic chill of the lake outside. He let me scratch my nails into his forearm as he watched me come down from the indescribable high he gave me, his lips against the erratic but slowing pulse on my neck. 

He got one last noise out of me when he pulled himself out of me, leaving me with the evidence of our release dripping between my thighs. I kept my back to him and he took the initiative to lightly drag the still wet tips of his fingers along my spine, causing goosebumps over every inch of my skin.

I thought I might have finally passed into an ecstasy induced coma until I heard that all too familiar hum of his, and he tugged on my shoulder, “C’mere, baby.” Happily, I did as he asked and turned around so I could bury my head in the crook of his neck. My eyes closed, my breath coming out in quiet gasps for air, I reveled in his every touch. He ran his hand through my hair a few times before using it to pull my mouth back to his. “Hot enough for ya?” he mumbled. Dazed, I nodded. Right now, I didn’t even remember being cold or how we’d gotten here. It felt more like a dream. Real or not, I didn’t want to leave. “Shit, I could fuck you every hour on the hour for a goddamn week and I’d _still_ want more.” he seemed to read my mind, his lips moving against mine. He was the only man I’d ever done anything with, and I was pretty damn sure I’d never need anything but him. 

My sense of self made its comeback and I managed to reply with a comprehensible sentence. “Mmm, we could always test that theory.” I pulled the blanket up over my shoulders as the cold began to creep back over my skin. 

“Don’t threaten me with a good time,” he drawled his reply with a smile that I never grew tired of. I breathed a laugh alongside him and watched his hand reach down to grab a small pillow that had fallen to the ground so he could stuff it behind his neck in addition to resting his head on the palm of his hand. 

His other arm wrapped around me as he looked up at the ceiling in thought with nothing in particular on his mind. It was a most rare occasion for me to be in the position I was in now: lying beside him with my head on his chest and no one to bother us. I enjoyed it more than I could express, though I didn’t know if he stayed to placate me or if he truly wanted to be here. 

I lifted my head and rested my chin against him, “Can I ask you something?”

His sigh was made of content when he looked down at me with a soft, lazy smile, “You can ask me whatever the hell you want, baby.” 

I bit my lip now that I was on the spot. I knew him better than most, I liked to believe. I knew about his wife, his old job, his favorite books, the kind of car he used to drive, the people he’d killed...but I still felt foolish to even think about asking him what I wanted to ask him. “Never mind, it’s stupid.” I tried to end the matter by pressing my cheek over his heartbeat and letting my fingers toy with the fringes of the blanket that covered us. 

I could feel the confused look he gave me, his brows knitted together at my sudden timorous shift. “What?” 

Taking a deep breath, I knew he wasn’t going to let it go so I bucked up and pressed on. “Do you…” I stopped myself and tried to think of a better approach than asking him if he liked me. That had an obvious answer. “What is this? I mean...what...are we?” Bluntness was the best tactic with him, despite how embarrassed it made me feel, and I felt more red-faced than ever; including the time he went down on me and said ‘ _your pussy tastes like the best fucking strawberry lemonade I’ve ever had_ ’. 

His lips parted, waiting for words to come out. He might have been confused by my phrasing, or he'd never given any thought to it before. “What do you mean?” He kept a neutral facade which made it impossible for me to even try and guess what he was thinking. 

I withheld my distressed, romantically frustrated groan. Why did I even have to start this conversation?! I pushed myself up onto my elbow to feign some kind of confidence, “I know when this started, you were trying to get back at my dad and I guess maybe I was too; but now? Is that what this still is?” Even if it was, I wasn’t about to object to it, but our habits didn’t seem synonymous with a fling anymore. 

He looked around us as if to make a point. “Darlin’,” he reverted to his older pet names, “we’re curled up together on an uncomfortable couch, by a sorry excuse for a lantern, in a _church_ ,” he blanched at the word as if he was going against his beliefs, “during a snowstorm from hell. What do you think?”

I wished he could just give me a straight answer rather than torment me. He chuckled at my irked attitude when I replied rather tersely, “I think...I mean…. I don’t know! It feels like we’re together in some kind of perverse relationship!” 

“Perverse?” he smiled brighter than the light beside him. “That hurts, baby, truly.” In actuality, he liked the sound of that. 

I gave a gruff sigh at his petulant behavior and laid back down to steer clear of his incessant teasing. “You’re older than my father,” I reminded the both of us. I honestly forgot sometimes. But for good measure, I added, “and you’re a dick.” 

His amusement became full-blown laughter, a rare sight, “Like that’s stopped you before.” I punched him in the opposite shoulder to get him to move on, but the hand he had behind his head shot out and grabbed my half-hearted fist, and kissed a few of my fingers. “Well, the way I see it, we’re both fucking adults who can do whatever the fuck they want with whatever time they got left. Now personally, I like spending my time with you. You’re super hot, we get along great, and the sex is _fan-fucking-tastic_ , so why overthink it?” Tender words weren’t his strong suit, but he laced his fingers between mine to try and seem less crass.

I fell for his charm, as usual. “Likewise,” I drawled as I settled into a more comfortable place against his side and left it at that, our interlocked hands against his chest, my leg resting over his thigh. We were on the same page, and that’s all I needed to know right now. “I don’t want to go back. I’d rather be with you than anyone else; my family included.” Despondent, I continued to speak my mind.

He shrugged, “The doors are locked. The weather’s a fucking shitshow. Our clothes are still wet as fuck...so I don’t think we have much of a choice, do we?” 

“Always know what to say, don’t you?” I mumbled against his skin as I hugged him, grateful for his support. 

“Usually,” he mused, humble for a split second. Though, his perked brow and supercilious smirk contradicted what he said. After a quick kiss to the top of my head, he asked, “Warm enough? Want another blanket?” 

I shook my head against his chest, ready to doze off, “No, I’m good...thanks.” 

He tightened his hold on me until I scarcely had any room to move around. I smiled, overjoyed by the attention. The warm, enveloping silence lingered on for a few minutes as if he was trying to remember what he wanted to say. “You gonna tell me what that dream of yours was about?” I jumped in the slightest when he pulled me back from the verge of sleep. 

It took me a minute to register his question. When I realized he had clung to our guessing game, I quietly laughed at his persistence, but there wasn’t any excuse for me to lie, not after what he’d done to me. “You,” I surrendered, “always you.” 

* * *

**My face as I re-read this fucking disaster of words**

**Author's Note:**

> Did y'all see 365 days on Netflix? So wild. Would've been so much better with JDM though, right? Right? Oh, just me? Okay. 
> 
> Anyway, thanks for reading and hopefully you don't have to go immediately bleach your eyes to forget what you've just read. 
> 
> Take care, everyone, and have a great day wherever you are! Thanks!!


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